


Hot-Blooded - or warm on a cold night

by Kabal42



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Hand Jobs, M/M, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabal42/pseuds/Kabal42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is cold business, but there is comfort to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot-Blooded - or warm on a cold night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grasonas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasonas/gifts).



> For gealach_ros on her birthday. Inspired by a chat about cuddles, tents and slow handjobs for these boys.

Who would have thought war was such cold business? Merlin certainly hadn't. All right, so that had probably been a rather naive assumption, seeing as going out on various expeditions with Arthur was always cold, but there was something innately warm about war. Or so he'd imagined. It was probably to do with all those bodies moving, fighting, using up every little bit of energy – and the blood. Warm, crimson blood, spilling over dark ground. The reality was that blood cooled fast on frozen ground. The scent of it, sickening, spread everywhere, and instead of being warm, Merlin was cold. Cold to the core with fear that Arthur, who was in the middle of that fray in there, would be cold too at the end of the day.

By nightfall - _knightfall, Merlin thought_ \- the cold descended with renewed force. They counted dead and living, Merlin was several body parts deep in blood, elbows, knees, and knew that he'd saved several lives, but not near enough. He wanted to slap Arthur for refusing to let him use magic on the battle field. 'Cheating,' Arthur had said. Merlin had tried to argue, but there was no budging Arthur when his sense of honour had been awoken. He'd allowed Merlin to weave a protective spell into Excalibur's scabbard, something that would help him should he get hit, but that was as far as he'd go – and only when Merlin pressed the idea hard. Arthur had come out unscathed, the scabbard had hardly been necessary, but Merlin was only pleased about that. It meant he could get Arthur to carry it next time as well, citing that he wouldn't need it anyway.

There was warm water in the camp, heated by diligent servants, whom Merlin sent a mental blessing to as he washed off the strong-smelling blood, colouring several basins full of water red.

He was still damp as he returned to the tent, Arthur's tent, easy to make out among the rest, larger and red like the blood of his men, and with the flag of Camelot flying above it. Merlin ducked into the tent and was pleased to see Arthur there, sitting at his makeshift table, poring over maps that showed troops and movements.

Merlin came to stand behind him and gently rubbed his neck and shoulders. 'You've worked enough today, sire,' he said. 'You need your rest.'

'And you need yours, warlock.' Arthur looked up at him, a weary smile on his face.

Merlin stroked fingers over his cheek, feeling the stubble. 'I do.' He smiled back. 'Have you made your plans for tomorrow?'

'Yes. I did early on, I was just...' He waved a hand, taking in the map.

'You wanted to be sure.' Merlin knew him well enough to know that, and he understood too.

Arthur nodded. 'Yes. But I don't see any possible improvements on the tactic we laid earlier. It's sound and I think we shall be able to win this war tomorrow.'

Merlin dearly hoped so, but didn't say anything. He didn't care to speak his worries, lest they colour the entire evening. It was already deep dark, the early night of winter, which at least made for the blessing of shorter battles.

'Are you going to bed, then?' he asked instead.

'Yes. On one condition.'

'Yes?' Merlin knew what was coming, but he asked anyway, smiling as he did.

'That you stay, of course.' Arthur reached up, placing his hand behind Merlin's neck and pulled him down into a soft kiss.

'As you wish, sire,' Merlin whispered against his lips.

The comfort of knowing each other meant that no words were needed. They found their way to Arthur's bed, a large but thin mattress covered in sheets and furs and pillows, and simply burrowed under the covers, still fully dressed, and curled around each other for warmth.

As the sheets warmed, clothes gradually came off. Arthur's trousers – he was always warmer than Merlin, somehow – then Merlin's, then outer shirts. Merlin was never able to keep his eyes or hands off Arthur's chest, and even though he was still wearing a light tunic, he'd caught a glimpse and wanted more.

They kissed as his hands found their way up under Arthur's shirt, and for several minutes, Merlin wanted nothing more than explore the soft skin of Arthur's neck with his lips and his chest with his hands. Arthur's hands were in his hair, on his back, stroking over his arse, and it was the soft moans from the king that got Merlin to finally tear himself away from what he was doing.

A year ago, he might have asked before doing more, but he no longer needed to. Instead he slid his hand from under Arthur's shirt and down to his cock. He was hard, heavy in Merlin's hand, so familiar and yet exciting every single time.

Arthur groaned softly against his cheek, pulled Merlin closer with an impatient hand, and began to stroke Merlin's cock in return.

The feeling was nearly perfect. It was slow, deliberate, Arthur knew just when to squeeze harder or slow down to draw this out and tease Merlin with it. He repayed in kind, getting Arthur almost to the point where he'd push up for more, but then pulling back to lighter touches instead to keep this going. It was almost a contest, but not quite. No-one lost here.

Merlin kissed Arthur again. This time it was a deep kiss, it lingered, dragged on, and when Arthur began to return it with more passion and pressing their lips together, Merlin knew it was time to finish up. Arthur was ready for it.

He closed his fist tighter around Arthur's length and stroked firmer, ran his thumb over the head. That got Arthur to push into his hand and Merlin smiled. He loved this part, when Arthur forgot everything and was Merlin's alone, when there was nothing in the world but the two of them.

Arthur groaned and squeezed his hand around Merlin and he forgot about all that wasn't Arthur, and all that mattered was getting more of this, of the strokes that were perfect, just fast enough to get him further, driving him slowly and deliberately towards a climax.

Next to him, Arthur's breath was huffing, his lips parted. Merlin kissed him, and Arthur pressed into the kiss. Merlin heard himself moan when Arthur squeezed him again. He moved his hand just a fraction faster and then Arthur's hips bucked and he came, and Merlin could feel him shaking. He raised his head to see; it was the most beautiful sight ever and Merlin drank it up.

Seconds later, Arthur's lips were on his and he was being held close, a warm arm tight around him, and Arthur stroked him still, firm and slow and exactly right. Merlin's eyes closed for a second and there it was, a wave rushing over him and he, too, shook and came and Arthur was kissing him again and everything was so good.

Arthur's grip on him loosened and Merlin settled against him, fitting their bodies together like they were made for it. It was like being curled up in a small cave of heat here, under the sheets. Arthur's soft, pleased hum in his ears and the fuzzy, hot feeling of good sex was lingering in Merlin's limbs. The last thing he noticed was Arthur's warm, musky scent, then he was asleep.


End file.
